


Rage and roses

by Redpandalavellan



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, POV Warden (Dragon Age), oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:22:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24142774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redpandalavellan/pseuds/Redpandalavellan
Summary: A collection of oneshots about the warden for my second worldstate, Iris Cousland
Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Alistair/Warden (Dragon Age)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Ash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iris left the cousland estate under less than ideal circumstances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another inktober prompt that ended up more creative writing than oneshot, the prompt being "ash"

She tasted bile.  
Her stomach heaved as she saw the room before her, trying to reject what her eyes refused to accept. The walls were lined with blood and a small body lay on the ground. She closed the door and adjusted her grip on her sword. Got to keep going.

She tasted metal.  
Her jaw stung as her shield slammed into it, the sword blow barely deflected from slicing into her arm. The following attack would have had her, had her mabari not leapt on the attacker and driven him to the ground. She scratched him behind the ears for a job well done and tried not to think about the sword wound across his back. Got to keep going.

She tasted ash.  
Her lungs burned as she ran, screaming for fresh air and receiving only hot smoke as the fires blazed around her. The buildings lay in crumbling ruins and the people lay face down in the streets. Her armour weighed heavy on her shoulders and the screams weighed heavy on her mind. Got to keep going.

She tasted blood.  
Her muscles ached as she fought, a continuous battle with no end in sight. An arrow pierced her armour at the joint, thudding lightly into the flesh below. She wanted to scream with every movement but found she couldn't make a sound. There was no time to remove it, no time to even pause. Got to keep going.

She tasted tears.  
Her heart ached as she watched him leave, walking out into a hopeless battle. She wouldn't see him again and she knew it. He would give his life for her, they all would, they all did. She would make it count, she would make them pay. Got to keep going.

She tasted dirt.  
Her arms shook as she tried to rise, face down on the ground where she had collapsed. Someone dragged her upright and she saw her mother shouting something at her, though no sound reached her ears. After a few seconds her senses returned and she nodded mutely. Got to keep going.

She tasted nothing.  
Her whole body felt numb as she ran through the tunnel, no sensation left except her feet on the ground. She was the only one left, the only survivor. Her life was over but something still remained. The anger burned in her chest like a bonfire, she would have her revenge.  
She just had to keep going.


	2. Catch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iris and Alistair train together frequently, but she's determined not to let him win

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "Catch"

"Catch!"  
Alistair barely had enough time to look up in response to the noise before the flat of a sword almost smacked him square in the face.  
He swiftly raised one gauntleted hand to grasp the hilt, and lowered his arm to see Iris' grinning face a few feet away.  
She was dressed in her grey warden armour, the bloodstains scrubbed out and the tears deftly sown closed, her frizzy hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. Her sword and shield hung loosely in her grip, the family heirlooms she had carried since she came to the wardens. They had found stronger weapons since, but she could never leave these ones unused for long.  
She raised the point of her sword and leveled it at his chest.  
"Up for some sparring?" She asked, and it took him a moment to stop staring and bring his thoughts back to the moment.   
"Oh, right, of course!" He scrambled to his feet, a more difficult task when still in his heavy plate, and picked up his shield from the ground.  
They retreated into a wide open space within the perimeter of the camp, giving them the needed room to manoeuvre. Quickly they adopted fighting stances, and fell into the practiced routine of circling each other, as they began every fight.

It didn't take long for Iris to make the first move, taking a quick step forward and lashing out with her sword towards his shoulder. He readily raised his shield to deflect the blow, well practiced at reading and interpreting her movements after the long months they had trained and fought together.  
Her style was bold and fluid, attacking with reckless abandon and relying on the enchanced maneuverability granted by her lighter armour to let her dodge or deflect any counter attacks. Her attacks had only become fiercer after training with Oghren, her normally disciplined training moving aside to make room for the terrible anger she held over the death of her family. He showed her how to make it a weapon, grind it to a sharp point and sink it deep back within those who had stolen everything from her.   
She relished in it, and while part of it worried him, she made a breathtaking sight. Eyes filled with hard fire, hair flying in loose curls around her face as she spun and slashed.  
She landed a blow to his side that winded him, and he pulled his mind back to the fight, cursing himself for getting distracted.  
"Come on Alistair!" She berated him. "Focus! The darkspawn won't let you off so easy."  
She lunged forward again, trying to swipe at his hips, but he simply shifted his position and allowed the blow to glance off his heavy plate.  
She didn't have the same option when he brought his sword around in a wide arc, striking her across the back as she tried to turn and avoid it, leaving her with a stinging bruise.

They exchanged blows like this for several minutes, until both of them were sweaty and exhausted, their muscles aching even as they lifted their swords. They fought almost to a standstill, and just as Alistair was going to disengage and suggest they call it a night, Iris looked him in the eye and smiled.  
Her face lit up, her expression one of joy and love, as if all the stars in the night could be contained in her eyes.  
He paused, lowering his guard for just a moment, and Iris saw her chance. She put her shoulder behind her shield, driving it into his chest, and he fell like a sack of bricks onto his back. He simply lay there panting, eyes focussed on the night sky above him as Iris slowly walked over to him and came into view, her head craned over his so strands of hair hung down at right angles to her face.  
"That was cheating you know." He muttered, scowling up at her without a shred of real malice.  
She laughed and offered him a hand to get to his feet.  
"I exploited a weakness in my opponent. That's hardly cheating is it?"  
He pulled himself upright with her help, aching from the heavy armour and eager now to simply collapse into his bedroll.  
"A weakness? My love for you is a weakness now is it?"  
Her heart still fluttered at the word love, a blush rising to her face. It was not the first time they had used it, but each time still felt special, new, uncertain. She hoped no one could tell the difference between the blush and the heat of battle.  
She smiled and put a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close for a kiss.  
"When we fight eachother? Yes." She murmured into his lips, shifting to press her forehead against his.  
"But when we fight together? It is our greatest strength."


	3. Pattern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The blight is over, the battles won.  
> But what does a warrior do in peacetime?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They can have a little happy ending, as a treat

She tugged the needle through the fabric, watching as the thin red threads were woven into place, outlining the petals of a rose. Three hours she had sat here already, pulling on threads, and she had barely finished one flower. The frustration could already be seen on her face, the wrinkles in her forehead, the way she figeted and tapped her foot on the hard wooden floor.  
As she pulled through the next stitch, the thread became knotted and snapped, and she grunted in frustration, gripping the wooden frame so tightly it buckled and snapped under the pressure.  
She threw the broken piece aside and put her face in her hands, eyes burning with unshed tears. This was stupid, she should be able to do this, why was it so difficult?  
She heard footsteps approaching and hastily wiped her reddened face as Alistair poked his head into the room.  
"Did the needlework offend you?" He asked cheerily, face set in his usual dopey grin as he took in the broken pieces on the floor. Iris sniffed and let loose a small laugh. No matter what he could always make her laugh.  
He walked over and sat on the floor beside her chair, armour clinking quietly as he gently took her hand in his.  
"What's wrong Iris?"  
She shook her head sorrowfully, turning away from him.  
"I can't do this." She moaned, shame and frustration burning in her words.  
"So embroidery isn't your thing, it's not important, love."  
He squeezed her hand and she turned back to face him, his kind smile putting her more at ease.  
"It's not the embroidery. It's this." She freed her hand from his grasp and gestured to the room at large. "It's everything. After all we went through I can't just sit and do nothing all day! I'm not cut out for this."  
He laughed, head dropping to stare at the floor between his feet.  
"You think you're not cut out for this? What about me?" He raised his head with an eager smile. "How about we run away? It can't be too late to let Anora run the place you know."  
She smoothed his hair with one hand, leaning over to plant a kiss on the top of his head.  
"I think you're doing just fine."  
They stayed there in a silence for a few moments before Iris sighed and went to retrieve the ruined fabric. She stared at it in her palms, running her fingers over the ridges of the pattern.  
"This is all I wanted once. To manage an estate well like my parents did before me. I spent hours with my mother learning these things, and hours more sneaking away to train with my brother." She smiled involuntarily at the memories. "Mother would turn in her grave if she could she the state of this stitching."  
She laughed slightly, and without warning the laughter turned to sobs.  
Alistair quickly stood and came to embrace her, placing a steadying hand on her back and a comforting one on the back of her head. She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face into his shoulder.  
"I miss her. I miss all of them." She mumbled into his armour.  
"I know my love, I'm sorry."  
After a few moments she pulled back and wiped her eyes carefully with the edge of her hand.  
"I've smudged my make-up now." She sighed.  
"And decorated my armour too it seems." Alistair replied, looking down at the powder marks on his plate.  
"Oops."  
He grinned lopsidedly at her once more.  
"Well, it seems neither of us are in a fit state for our royal duties. Perhaps the nobles will simply have to wait."  
He extended one arm and bowed deeply.  
"Care to retire to our chambers my lady?"  
She rolled her eyes and shook her head at him with a smile.  
"You can't keep avoiding your meetings like this you know, you do actually have to run the country."  
"Well, I'm the king, and I say we get the rest of the day off. So the nobles can shove it."  
He cupped one half of her face in his palm and planted a soft kiss on her lips.  
"Besides, I have you to pacify them later."  
She ran her hands through his hair at the back of his head.  
"Flatterer." She murmered, and then let out a high pitched shriek as he picked her up bridal style.  
"Anything to see you smile."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last one I have for these two at the moment. I have others in the works, but again they aren't close to being done so I'll mark this work as finished for now


	4. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The blight is over, but the wardens are for life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the oneshots continue 👀

She had to reach him.  
That was the only thought in her mind as the battlefield stretched before them.  
Homes and shops burned all around, people screamed and Iris found she could no longer tell the difference between soldiers and civilians as they all ran for their lives.  
But none of that mattered, because Alistair was here somewhere, and she had to find him.  
She could feel him, somewhere ahead of her, just like she could feel the darkspawn circling all around them, pillaging their way through the city streets. So she tightened her grip on her sword and shield and started running.

She knew she was close, she had to be, but at every step she was parrying blows from hurlocks and dodging emissary's spells, slowing her stride. The narrow streets penned her in, smoke blinding her eyes and stealing her breath, and she felt the bite of a sword slicing deep into the back of her calf. She bit down hard onto her lip to keep from screaming, tasting the unpleasant copper of her own blood, but still she didn't stop.

Until finally she saw him ahead of her, in an open courtyard, the bodies of countless darkspawn lying bloody and broken by his feet.  
Relief flooded her. He was whole, alive, stood shining in his Grey Warden plate, Maric's blade and Duncan's shield in each hand. He cut down a genlock in front of him and then turned to wave to her, sword held high in front of his grinning face.  
And in that momentary lapse a shriek appeared behind him and sliced its claws through the joints on his armour.

She tried to scream but suddenly found there was no breath in her lungs, no sound to be released. She ran forward but found her strides too slow, like trying to run through treacle as she helplessly watched his face contort with the pain, his knees buckle as he crumpled towards the cobbles below.  
Seconds later she was by his side, sparing no thought for the darkspawn still circling around them as she threw her sword to one side, her shield already gone from her hand though she couldn't recall when it happened.

She tried to help him but her bloody hands slipped on his plate, leaving ugly red smears as she tried to staunch the bleeding.  
"You were too slow." He coughed.  
"No- it's okay, Alistair, you'll be okay." She pleaded, but blood began to flow from his mouth, a horrible black.  
And she heard it again, the horrible melodic whispering that tugged at the darkest corners of her mind, as her lover bled out in her arms.  
The archdemon screamed overhead and she screwed her eyes tight, wishing for the nightmare to end, heart hammering so loud in her ears she thought her head might burst as the crescendo of screaming grew louder all around her-

She lurched awake, grabbing at the bedsheets in a blind panic until her mind finally caught up with her surroundings.  
She was in her room at the castle, though her heart still hammered and her limbs weighed heavy as if she'd just done a full day of sparring, feeling like she could barely catch her breath through the anxiety in her chest.  
She took a few deep breaths, blinking deliberately a few times to try and shake the nightmare from behind her eyelids, wiping sweaty palms on the sheets and trying not to listen to her surroundings, for she knew if she did she would still be able to hear the horrible music weaving its way through her mind.

She turned to her side, and her breath caught in her throat once more as she realised she was alone in the bed. Alistair was gone.  
The rational part of her mind told her not to panic, that he had likely just stepped out to the bathroom, but that part was swiftly drowned out as her eyes were drawn to the empty crib at the bottom of the bed.  
Once more in seconds she was on her feet, clad in nothing but her night dress as she leapt for the door and began calling for him in a panic down the hallway, giving the night guards a fright as they hastened to her aid.

Until Alistair appeared at the bottom of a staircase, with messy hair and dark rimmed eyes, wearing nothing but loose trousers and with a fussy baby tucked tightly against his chest.  
She ran forward once more, and this time she reached him, throwing her arms around his torso and breathing him in, as he murmured reassuringly and gently stroked the back of her head with his one free arm.  
He dismissed the guards with a nod, and a few moments later they were stood alone in the hallway, as Iris slowly began to bring her breathing back under control and lifted her head from the crook of Alistair's neck.

"Give her to me." Iris asked after a moment, extracting herself from his embrace and holding out her arms for their child.  
He did as she asked, placing the small thing gently into her arms with the care only seen in new parents, still so afraid any too fast movement would break the delicate life now entirely reliant on them.  
"She wouldn't settle." He explained in hushed tones as the child grumbled in her arms, face screwed up and red in her anger. "So I brought her downstairs not to wake you. I didn't mean to worry you."

She let out a shaky exhale, becoming suddenly aware of the coiled tension in her muscles as she tried to gently move one arm without overly disturbing the child in her embrace.  
Images of fire still danced behind her eyelids, every shadow made her want to reach for her sword, every sound made her want to bolt from the room.  
But instead she slipped one sleeve of her night dress off her shoulder and brought the child up to her breast, wincing slightly at the pinching pain as she latched on. Soon the gentle pull of nursing lulled her into the beginnings of relief and she turned to smile tiredly at her husband.  
"Sorry. I didn't mean to freak out I just-"

"-had another nightmare." Alistair finished for her, looking at her the way he always did these days, equal parts love and concern.  
She sighed and looked down once more at the child in her arms.  
"Yes."  
He placed a comforting hand in the small of her back and she leaned into the touch, needing just the presence of him to convince her she was safe, she could relax.  
"It felt so real, and there was-"  
She stopped again, lips pursed in her discontent. She suddenly found she had no desire to relive the events in the retelling, and that Alistair had had nightmares enough himself to know how she felt without lavish description.

"I have to go, don't I?"  
She whispered quietly, not taking her eyes off her daughter in her arms, as if to do so would allow her to be stolen from her grasp.  
"What?" Alistair protested quickly. "No, of course not, you-"  
She looked over at him, saw the same fear that she felt in her chest echoed in his face.  
"But I do." She cut in, quiet but firm. "I know you've had them too, and they're only getting worse."  
He had been waking in the night just as often as she had, though he tried to hide it for her sake. She had no illusions that the reason he was awake now in the middle of the night with their daughter was no coincidence either.

She looked back at the babe in her arms.  
"I don't want to leave her."  
"Then don't." He pleaded. "Stay with us. You know I can't bear to see you go."  
She closed her eyes.  
"Alistair, if the Calling comes for us, what shall we do then? Who will lead Fereldan? Who will take care of Elissa?"   
She didn't want to leave them, of course she didn't. Not now, when she finally had the family she had been yearning for for so long. But what was the alternative? She woke each night with nightmares of losing them, and if she continued to ignore her duty, she would lose more than just a few months of time together.  
"We need a way to be free of it. I have to go and find out how."

She turned to face him once more and felt an ache in her chest as she saw the tears in his eyes, reaching up to brush her thumb across his damp cheeks.  
"Oh, Alistair."  
She knew how he felt about this, they had argued about it before. He had begged to come with her, but she wouldn't leave their child alone at the estate, and she certainly wouldn't bring her with them on such a dangerous trip.  
So he had asked to go in her place, pleaded for her to stay in the safety of the estate with their daughter and lead their people while he chased down the scant leads across the world.  
But she had insisted on going herself. He was king, as much as she might help with the ruling she had no power here without him, and the people needed the stability of seeing him here on the throne.

He turned his head away from her touch, averting his eyes as she moved with his head to keep her palm against his cheek.  
"I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't I just... I love you. You here, with me, with us.... it's all I could ever want."  
She hated to do this to him, but the thought of him out in the world where she couldn't protect him would drive her mad. He had always had a clearer head when it came to personal matters than her, she knew he would cope in her absence, as much as he protested.  
He turned and looked at her, soft brown eyes fixing on hers as if trying to save her image against time.  
"Please promise me you'll come back."

Iris had always been wary of casual commitments, of making promises she couldn't keep, indebting herself with careless words she didn't mean. But as Alistair looked at her she simply leaned across and placed a small kiss on his lips.  
"I promise."


End file.
